


Puss in Combat Boots

by pebbles1971



Series: Whiskers [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Animal Transformation, Bullying, Cat John Sheppard, M/M, Not really McShep but sorta, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25090261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pebbles1971/pseuds/pebbles1971
Summary: John was pretty sure, though, when he woke up with paws, whiskers and much pointier ears a few days later, the ritual was to blame.
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Series: Whiskers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2152938
Comments: 16
Kudos: 71





	Puss in Combat Boots

**Author's Note:**

> For all the silliness of the theme, this is kind of a sad, not-getting-together story about bullying.
> 
> Thanks to my anonymous beta reader for her suggestions, many changes have been made since so all mistakes are mine. I totally blame her for making me keep the daft title though.
> 
> Partly inspired by conversations with jdskeletion, and partly inspired by my little black cat

John should know better than to trust priestesses with artefacts that went all glowy just for him, but he'd thought the mission was uneventful. Take part in the unexpectedly innocuous ceremony, agree to undertake a "temporary transformation that will lead to new understanding", step inside the glowy box, and . . . nothing.  
  
Come home with a quarter-charged ZPM, a surprisingly easy trade deal and a very happy McKay. Job done.  
  
John was pretty sure, though, when he woke up with paws, whiskers and much pointier ears a few days later, the ritual was to blame.

He jumped down off his suddenly terrifyingly high bed and at once marvelled at the spring in his legs whilst boggling at the effort it took to coordinate walking on four of the fuckers.  
  
He didn't really need to look in the mirror. He _felt_ cat. There was cat-ness running all through him. Which for a million reasons was freaking him out, not least of which was John Sheppard was most emphatically a dog person.  
  
There was only one person he even considered going to in a crisis of this magnitude.  
  
McKay would help. He always knew what to do.

***

'Oh my god, look at you!' There was a joyful light in Rodney's blue eyes John had never seen before. It was unexpectedly becoming on him. John had seen ZPM-joy but now he realised that was more “thank fuck we might not die now” whereas this . . . John was pretty sure nobody had ever been _this_ pleased to see him in human form.

‘Hey, McKay, I could use a little help here . . .’ John said to his friend, only it came out ‘miaowrrrrr, rowrrrrr, brrrrrowrrr . . .’

‘Did some naughty person smuggle a cat through the gate? Or did you stow away on the _Daedalus_? Maybe you’re a Pegasun puss that someone snuck on base?’

‘No you dickhead, it’s me, John!’ (‘wrowrr, rawrrr, brarrrw!’)

McKay reached a hand down towards John and trailed a finger carefully across John’s head and then down behind his ear.

Hey! What are you doing? Personal space, McKay!

But oh, _god_ , that felt good. Suddenly John was melting into Rodney’s touch and Rodney was giving him a good old scratch behind the ear. John found himself leaning into it for all he was worth.

‘Like that, huh?’ McKay’s hand smoothed down John’s neck and along his back, and without any choice in the matter at all, John began to purr. John couldn’t remember the last time someone had made him feel this good. Maybe never.

‘What a gorgeous girl you are!’

Hey! John protested, but then he suffered the complete indignity of McKay’s hands scooping under his belly and picking him up, lifting him high in the air while Rodney peered at his junk.

Do you _mind_ , McKay?

‘Oops, sorry! Gorgeous _boy_. You’d better not go spraying around my room, Mr Tom.’

John just gave Rodney the most contemptuous stare he could muster.

Rodney, in response, put his huge face up close and rubbed his stubbled cheek against John’s. It was kinda nice, actually, and John found himself nuzzling back.

This was such a different McKay than the one he knew – this man was so sweet and open, and John couldn’t help but warm to him. He’d always liked Rodney, even though the man was a bit of an ass, but this was a glimpse of someone he’d never met – someone disarmingly pure. Something about that made John’s heart ache a little – why did nobody get to see this side of McKay?

Rodney sat on the bed and settled John in his lap, hands fussing over him in ways that were making John buzz with contentment.

‘Hey, I brought a sandwich back from the mess earlier . . . you can have a bit of almost-turkey if you ask nicely.’

Without conscious volition, John found himself rolling onto his back and waving his paws, and Rodney reached for the sandwich.

‘Hmmm, is that belly safe to pet or is it a trap?’ Rodney tentatively stroked between John’s forepaws and John squirmed with pleasure. Then the hand moved further down to his belly and _christ!_ it tickled. John reflexively bit at Rodney’s hand, albeit gently enough not to draw blood. Rodney just chuckled.

‘See? I knew it was a trap. How bout you chew on this, rather than on me?’ He offered John a piece of turkey and John took it carefully, savouring the exaggerated taste his feline senses gave him.

Oh my fucking god, he was eating out of Rodney McKay’s hand. He was sitting in Rodney McKay’s _lap_ and eating out of his hand. This transformation had clearly affected John’s reason. In any case they were way past the point where John was prepared to admit to his secret identity. He was just going to have to stay a cat forever to avoid the embarrassment of this whole episode. Although . . . being Rodney’s lap-cat had a certain appeal. So far it was the best experience of his Pegasus sojourn so far.

Rodney yawned. ‘I was about to turn in. Want to stay around? I’ll figure out what to do with you in the morning.’

Rodney lifted John off his lap and standing, stripped down to his boxers.

Oh my, those broad shoulders of his had muscled up lately. John had always had a bit of a crush on Rodney, but he had no intention of doing anything about it. Between DADT and fraternisation rules it really wasn’t worth going there. Still, no harm in looking, he thought, as Rodney turned to put his things away and gave John a perfect view of his broad back and perfect ass, showing through his enticingly threadbare boxers.

There was a quarter-sized hole in the middle of one of the cheeks, a tantalising glimpse of pink peeking through. John didn’t feel sexual about it in this form, thank fuck, but my god it was pretty.

Wow, Sheppard, could you be any more of a creep? John turned away and curled himself up at the foot of the bed, slightly disgusted with himself.

‘Made yourself at home, huh?’ Rodney stroked from his neck to his tail and John could feel himself turning to goo.

Rodney got under the covers, sliding his feet carefully down the bed next to John. John resisted the powerful urge to playfully bite his toes, but he did press his back against Rodney’s ankle, and turn over a little onto his back.

It had been a long, long time since he’d felt this good.

‘Night, Mr Tom,’ Rodney said, and John just purred.

He’d figure it out tomorrow. Or maybe he wouldn’t, and would that be so bad?

***

John woke in the middle of the night with an itchy feeling under his skin. Rodney was fast asleep, snoring gently. John padded up the bed to look at him. He looked peaceful – cute, really. His face in sleep had lost the wary, careworn look it’d had of late. John sat back on his haunches and contemplated the enigma that was Rodney McKay.

But then the itching became something more – a sparking inside him like little electric shocks, and he jumped down off the bed and rolled in pain.

By the time the pain passed, he was human again.

And _naked_ in Rodney McKay’s room.

He lurched up, heading for the door and let himself out before Rodney woke up.

Only now he was naked _outside_ Rodney McKay’s room.

Heart going almost as fast as it had been when he was feline, John sprinted for his quarters. They were only a corridor away, but it felt like another galaxy. Running naked down the corridors of Atlantis was literally his second worst dream made real (his worst was the one where a wraith drained the life out of him, and he really hoped tonight wasn’t setting a trend).

He made it, slipping inside and leaning against the safety of the closed door, chest hammering. He just prayed nobody ever had cause to view the Ancient monitors for tonight. It would be deeply unfair to get busted for what it _looked_ like without having done the actual deed.

When he’d finally brought his heartrate back down to a more human range, John slipped into bed feeling thoughtful. He wasn’t sure what the transformation was meant to help him understand, but that had certainly given him a new perspective.

*** 

A few days later, it happened again.

John woke up small, furry and even more flexible than usual. He didn’t even hesitate before springing down from his bed and heading for McKay’s room as if pulled there by a magnet. He wasn’t going to pretend, either, that he thought Rodney would fix him. He just wanted to see that delighted look on Rodney’s face again. Feel that innocent, affectionate touch.

He was already addicted.

‘Oh, there you are!’ Rodney said, his eyes lighting up as he scooped John into his arms, petting John’s head until John was limp with pleasure. ‘I guess you’re surviving, huh? However you manage that, you look well fed, and your coat is beautifully shiny.’ Rodney sat on his couch and set John down on his lap. John almost involuntarily tipped upside-down, nestling his neck against McKay’s soft belly. Rodney just chuckled.

‘Affectionate thing, aren’t you? I wonder how many people you’re visiting here? And who you belong to? I’d rather like it if you kept visiting. I don’t have any friends here.’

Rodney looked suddenly sad, and John couldn’t bear it. What did he mean, no friends? They’d been friends for two years!

‘Oh, I suppose that’s not really true. There’s Carson, but he’s so busy I barely see him.’

There’s me, Rodney! John caught Rodney’s hand in his paws and gave it a lick.

‘And now there’s you, Mr Tom. Thank you. At least you like me. I hope you can come visit again.’

Once again, Rodney went to sleep that night with John curled up against him. This time, when the itching started, John fled for his quarters and got back before the transformation hit.

Rodney’s sadness clung to him, though. How could the man say he had no friends? The team were as close as anything. Maybe it was just one of those middle-of-the-night self-doubt things.

*** 

John visited regularly after that, and he found in time that he had a certain amount of control over the transformation. The time he spent with McKay was increasingly special to him. He hadn’t realised how lonely Rodney was, but he noticed something else – he was lonely too, he didn’t think anyone in Atlantis got a chance to see the real John Sheppard, between the burden of leadership and the straightjacket of DADT. He may not be able to talk to Rodney, but at least he was free when with him – to show affection, to let himself be touched.

Then one day he sauntered into Rodney’s room and the man was sitting on his couch with his head in his hands, crying.

No, not crying, _sobbing._ Heart-wrenching, body-wracking, heaving tears that hurt John’s fast-beating heart. He jumped up and rubbed his face over Rodney’s, not caring that he was getting tears and snot on his fur.

For a long time, Rodney didn’t even seem to register his presence, but eventually he calmed a little, and brought his hands up to sink into John’s fur like they were caught hold of a lifeline.

‘I don’t think I can take his bullying anymore. I don’t know what to do,’ Rodney said, sounding bereft. ‘I thought we were going to be friends, but . . . he just gets meaner and meaner to me.’

Who, Rodney? Who’s doing this to you? Is it Radek? I’ll beat his tiny Czech ass.

‘The relentless teasing is hard enough, I could almost pretend it’s banter. But threatening my _life_ and treating it like it’s hilarious? Pulling that meathead Mitchell into it too?’

John went suddenly cold all over.

‘I thought he just didn’t understand that it’s a serious allergy, that he just thought I was exaggerating. Cos people don’t get it – they think “deathly allergic” is code for “not keen on” or some bullshit. Don’t get that I already nearly lost my life once because some restaurant thought a squeeze of lemon in the marinade didn’t count to be put on their allergen list, and that other time when Hayley Sanders decided it would be hilarious to give me a sip of pink lemonade. But now I know he knows. He apparently told Mitchell it was a good way to threaten me with _death_. Frighten me into performing miracles for them, as if I’m not scared enough every day living in this fucking galaxy – as if any sane person wouldn’t be!’

Oh god.

‘I hate him. He’s toying with my safety like it’s some big fucking joke. As if I don’t have enough to worry about, given everyone here’s life is in my hands time and time again, I face the very real possibility that I’m going to die because Colonel pretty-but-cruel casually peeled an orange next to me and didn’t get the EpiPen to me in time, or fumbled the injection. I mean, at this point I’m not convinced he’d even _try_ to save me. He clearly hates me.’

I do not hate you, Rodney! John headbutted his way past the hands that were once again clasped over McKay’s face. I like you. A lot. I don’t know why I do those things. I didn’t think . . . I just didn’t think.

He _was_ kinda mean to McKay. Maybe a bit more than _kinda._ But why? He liked the man. A lot. If anyone found out how much . . .

Oh.

He licked at the salty tears on Rodney’s face, and rubbed his cheek against Rodney’s.

I’m sorry, Rodney. I think if I was you, I’d hate me too.

*** 

John would love to have been able to say that from that day forward, he was a better, kinder friend to Rodney McKay.

Only he wasn’t. By night, he was snuggled up against the man, taking and giving comfort, but somehow, he couldn’t resist the need to disassociate himself from McKay when they were around other people.

If anything, it was getting worse, and since that wraith fed on him, John was all hard edges and thankful as fuck that nobody saw the softness of his furrier side.

It was when Jeannie and alt-McKay were visiting that John hit his all-time low. He’d been absorbing Jeannie’s indignant but funny tales of McKay over lunch. Despite her role as a disgruntled younger sibling, there was a trace of warmth in her narration that was completely absent when John turned on the newly-arrived Rodney.

‘Now when the issue of, uh, _bedwetting_ happened to come up, she may have mentioned something about your childhood . . .’

There are moments in life when you hear yourself say things and wish you could real the words back in, especially when you see the devastated look on someone’s face, and the way your pack leader role means everyone else riffs off your words. Rodney’s look said, “that was low, even for you,” but John already knew he had gone too far.

Kids that wet their beds are often in some kind of trouble – how the fuck could he make a joke of something like that? Oh, he could understand a little sister wanting to get her own back at big brother, and god knows Ronon had reason to take McKay down a peg or two, but John had no excuse for this. There was no point at which McKay had had the upper hand over him, nothing to get back at Rodney for. It was like he was thirteen again and picking on Billy Thompson, that obviously queer kid in his class that had tried to befriend John one summer. Oh, John had made him pay for thinking the two of them had any ground to share.

I’m a monster, he realised, as later that night he licked away the tears he’d helped put on Rodney’s face. He tried to make it up to Rodney after that, but his efforts were weak and he was all too aware this toothpaste wasn’t going back in the tube.

John knew what he had to do. It was time to face the music. Once Jeannie had been packed off back home to Earth, John made up his mind. Heart in his mouth, he chimed at Rodney’s door, and the man let him in, looking wary and impatient.

‘I came to apologise,’ John said bluntly, ‘I’ve been an asshole to you. A bully. I’m sorry.’

Rodney just gave him that aloof sneer John knew so well.

‘And I should care about that why, exactly?’ Rodney said, his voice dripping in scorn. ‘It may shock you to know this, Colonel, but your moronic jibes mean nothing to me.’ Damn, he was a good actor, and suddenly John saw McKay’s hard shell for what it was. Just how much had this guy been bullied through his life? John remembered the “hilarious” story of taunting kids making Rodney eat his lunch with his underwear on his head and shivered with realisation. To be that out of control would be terrifying. To not let people see it got to you would be essential for survival.

‘Rodney,’ John said gently, ‘I know that’s not true. I know I’ve hurt you and I want to try and make amends.’

‘Oh, you know, do you?’ Rodney was getting shrill now, ‘you just happen to know that someone like me, the smartest man in two galaxies, is going to lose a second’s sleep over what a dumb grunt like you thinks? I know you fancy yourself, Sheppard, but really, is there no end to your narcissism?’

‘I don’t know why it matters to you what I say. But for what it’s worth, I like you. I’m mean to you because I like you and I know you hate me and I don’t blame you.’

‘I don’t _hate_ you.’ Rodney looked merely impatient, and he would’ve had John fooled, John realised guiltily, had John not been snooping around him in cat form. ‘You really don’t pay attention, do you? You mean _nothing_ to me. I couldn’t care _less_ if you’ve been pulling my pigtails like a nine-year-old. I hadn’t even _noticed_.’ Rodney was so convincing John almost believed it, despite the evidence of his own cat-eyes. ‘Are we done here?’ Rodney finished, his arms crossed and his chin high.

‘I . . .’ John didn’t know what to say to that. He couldn’t bear to stand here and lie to McKay any longer. He stood for a full two minutes, mute, until Rodney lost his temper.

‘For fuck’s sake Colonel, you’re being weird and you need to leave. I’m busy.’

John took a deep breath and concentrated on transforming into cat-mode. He didn’t know what else to do, he just knew Rodney had to know the truth. He _owed_ the man that. His clothes landed in a heap around his small, sleek form, and he padded towards Rodney, looking up expectantly.

This time Rodney wasn’t remotely pleased to see John’s cat-self. Rodney’s face was a picture of betrayal. He stared at John, open-mouthed for a long while, and in the end, when he spoke, his voice was cold.

‘Change back,’ he said.

John did so, quickly covering himself with his hands, reaching for his pants when the first missile hit him – a book.

‘Now get the fuck out of my room and don’t come back!’ A selection of increasingly heavy objects flew through the air with deadly accuracy, and John only had time to grab for his pants and slip out the door before putting them on.

Great, naked outside McKay’s quarters _again_. Wouldn’t it have been nice if the situation was as incriminating as it seemed? John felt like crying, but he didn’t deserve to feel sorry for himself. He only had himself to blame, he thought ruefully as he legged it back to his quarters yet again.

***

After that day, Rodney’s demeanour towards John didn’t change a bit, which only served to reinforce how artificial it was. He continued on in his arrogant, snarky way, while John tried desperately to repair things between them. It seemed futile, but at least he wasn’t bullying the man anymore.

The two of them reached a fragile peace, but it was a million miles from where John wanted them to be.

And then he shot Rodney. Albeit he wasn’t in his right mind when he did it, but he couldn’t bear the realisation he’d caused the man even more harm. And Rodney’s indignation at being shot only served to reinforce the brave face the man perpetually put over his real feelings – the wound had been serious, but Rodney didn’t scream or cry, just groused.

It was like bitching was the thing that kept him going through all kinds of pain. John was finally beginning to understand McKay a little better.

With all his team wounded, the wait for the _Daedalus_ was a long one. John found himself staying close to Rodney, despite the barrage of complaint. If Rodney got a few more “sorry”s than the rest of his team well, John wasn’t counting. As dusk fell on the planet, Teyla and Ronon snoozed and Carson was tending Kagan in the cave. John tried one more time to make amends.

‘I really am sorry, Rodney,’ John said, ‘and not just for shooting you.’

‘You don’t get it, do you?’ Rodney snapped back, ‘guys like you are as immutable as the laws of physics . . .’ he thought about that for a second and continued, ‘. . . well, more so, apparently. Wherever there’s a socially awkward, too-bright-for-his-own-good geek, there’s a dumb as a plank jock making himself more popular by the simple mechanism of being mean as hell. I feel sorry for you, honestly, because if people see you being mean, they’re not sticking close because they like you, they’re sticking close because they don’t want to be on the receiving end of _that._ ’

Ouch.

‘So you see, at least I know that my one friend here in Atlantis isn’t just trying to stay on my oh-so-charming side, because I don’t have one. Nor do I direct my insults discriminately.’

‘Is that really how you see me?’ John asked, a little shocked at this tirade, ‘because I like to think there’s more to me than that.’

‘Oh, I’m sure there is, Colonel, but what use are hidden depths if nobody gets to see them? I may know you’re not really that dim, and I may know you’re crying out for a closeness you don’t have anywhere in human form. I may even suspect you’re hiding a queer streak a mile wide, but what use is any of that knowledge when day to day the only guy I meet is the role you play?’

John fell silent. Well, fuck, Rodney had him well and truly pegged.

Eventually, John tried to speak. ‘Rodney, I can’t . . .’ but his words dried up.

‘Oh, trust me, I know you can’t let that mask slip. I know what that would cost you. And I know I have my own mask to keep up. So, let’s stop pretending anything is going to change, eh?’

***

As soon as Rodney was out of the infirmary, John found himself constantly hovering outside Rodney’s door, afraid to chime. He couldn’t leave it there – so much had been acknowledged between them now, and he was desperate to prove Rodney wrong.

He could totally let his mask drop. He could turn this around, be a military commander _and_ himself. Whoever the fuck that was.

Surely that was possible?

But though he paced back and forth, he somehow didn’t manage to chime the door. For days, while Rodney shut himself away in recovery from his injury, John tried and failed to push himself to try and make a new connection to the man.

Then one day, he made it inside. Instead of chiming the door, he barged into Rodney’s quarters, determined. He sauntered towards McKay’s bed like he owned the place, looking at Rodney’s form, propped up on the bed trying to work – clearly in pain.

‘Oh it’s you. I don’t know what you think you’re doing here.’

John just closed the distance across the floor and jumped up onto the bed. He headbutted McKay’s hand away from his tablet and insistently nuzzled his head into its place. McKay huffed grumpily, but his hand stroked John’s head even so, letting his fingers slide down John’s fur into that spot behind his ear that had him dissolving into bliss.

‘Just so we’re clear,’ McKay said, his grumpy voice belying the affection in his caresses, ‘I’m never going to like _him_ , but _you_ I can live with.’

John wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t wish that so many things could be different, but as he paddled his paws into Rodney’s pudgy belly and turned over on his back while McKay petted and fussed his head, John realised this was still more affection than he’d had in his whole damn life, and that was surely something.

He had an inkling it meant something to Rodney, too, as he listened to the way McKay’s pleased hum set up a resonance with his own loud purr.


End file.
